Riding Hard. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      “That’s because I’m vague about it. I don’t want my old life back, but I’m not sure what my new life should look like, or where it will take place. I’m at a crossroads.”

      She studied him quietly for a moment. “There’s this spot out on the ranch, a big flat piece of granite laced with quartz that’s sacred to the Shoshone Indians, although they really don’t go out there anymore. Some say that if you’re having trouble deciding what to do, standing out on that rock helps.”

      “What do you think?”

      “I’ve never personally used that rock to make a decision, but some of my loved ones have. It couldn’t hurt.”

      “Oh, yes, ma’am, it could. I’ve heard that in the Wild West trespassers get shot at, especially if they’re considered villainous cads, which I am.”

      Josie grinned. “I wish you and Jack could spend some time together without starting a family feud. I think you’d get along. Anyway, let me give you my cell number. If you decide to head out there, call me and I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

      “It’s a deal.”

      When they were finished with their tea, they went out back to fetch Josie’s horse.

      Drake walked outside with her. “It was mighty kind of you to come by,” he said.

      “I mostly did it for Tracy.” She untied her horse, a large bay, and put on the hat she’d hung from the saddle horn. “I hoped to appeal to your better instincts.”

      “You did, although I was already headed in that direction.”

      She mounted up and gazed down at him. “That’s good to hear, Drake. I wish you well.”

      “Sounds as if I have one more friend around here.”

      “You do, but if you mess with Tracy, I’ll quickly become Enemy Number One.”

      “I understand.”

      “Call if you want a spiritual boost from the sacred rock.”

      “I will.”

      With a wave, she guided her horse to the front of the cabin and rode off. Drake followed and watched her dismount to lower the rail on the wooden fence marking the edge of Last Chance property. Then she led her horse across, replaced the rail and climbed back into the saddle before cantering across the meadow.

      It struck him that although he’d devoted his life to horses, he hadn’t ridden much. His parents owned thoroughbreds destined for the track, and so did all his clients. He’d passed the weight limit for being a jockey when he was twelve, and besides, he’d never aspired to that career.

      As a kid, he’d been given one of the thoroughbreds that balked at the starting gate. He’d ridden Black Velvet for a few years, but then school and girls had claimed most of his attention. His riding had become sporadic and mostly confined to summer vacations.

      He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ridden. He knew everything about the animal—skeletal structure, muscles, tendons, circulatory system...the list went on. But somewhere along the way he’d lost track of the riding part.

      Back in Virginia he rented a town house. It had never really occurred to him to buy horse property. He could guess why. He had no desire to own a stable of racehorses, and that was the only model he’d known.

      But there were other models. The Last Chance was one of them. Regan and Lily’s equine-rescue facility was another. He’d allowed his view to become very narrow, but a relationship with horses didn’t have to involve running them around a track or even caring for their medical needs.

      He wouldn’t mind taking a ride now, but he couldn’t go over to the rescue facility and borrow a horse, and he wouldn’t be welcome at the Last Chance, either. He could try to find a riding stable in the area, but he probably was too spoiled to be satisfied with most stable ponies.

      Still, he’d had another epiphany. Whatever his future held, he wanted it to involve riding horses. Good thing he’d made some wise investments, because horse property didn’t come cheap no matter where he ended up. He had a rough idea what his parents’ farm was worth, and the amount was staggering.

      Eventually he chose a hike over spending the rest of the day in the cabin reading. He took an easy trail, one he could manage in hiking sandals and shorts. The afternoon was warm, so he wore a sleeveless T-shirt. Exercise was a great stress reliever and helped keep his mind off Tracy and his pesky libido. He pocketed his phone out of habit, and he was on the trail headed home when her call came.

      “Dottie is leaking,” she said.

      “Leaking what?” His heart pounded. He didn’t want anything leaking. He didn’t want anything going wrong with the mare—for several reasons.

      “I think it’s milk, or something like milk. What does that mean?”

      “It means I need to come over and check her out. Unlock Regan’s truck. I’ve been hiking, so I’m hot and sweaty. You’ll have to take me the way I am.”

      “Don’t worry about that.” She sounded frightened. “Just get here.”

      “I will, and don’t be scared. Everything will be fine.” He didn’t know that for sure, but it was a good thing to say when people were upset.

      Although he didn’t shower, he pulled on jeans, boots and a long-sleeved Western shirt before hopping in the SUV. Shorts and hiking sandals weren’t the most practical thing to have on if he ended up delivering a foal. As he drove back to the rescue facility, he concentrated on his reasons for being there. This was all about the horse and her foal. Taking her in had been an act of mercy that could end up with everyone feeling warm and fuzzy, unless something went wrong.

      If she was lactating, that was a sign that she was closer to giving birth than he’d thought. But the colostrum she’d produce at first was critical to the health of the foal and should be collected. Lactating early could also be a sign of serious trouble that could lead to fatalities, both the mare’s and the foal’s. He didn’t plan to let tragedy occur.

      Tracy was standing in the yard, arms wrapped around her torso, when he drove through the gate she’d obviously left open for him. As he turned off the engine and climbed out, she hurried over, all hesitation swept away by panic. He was tempted to gather her in his arms to comfort her, but that wasn’t a good idea, and it wasn’t what she needed from him right now.

      “It’s not just the leaking,” she said. “It’s her whole behavior. She’s pacing the stall. Sometimes she lies down, but then she gets up again. I drove Regan’s truck down to the barn so you’ll have whatever you need close by.”

      “Thanks. Good idea. Let’s go see what our girl is up to.” He walked fast, Tracy skipping to keep up with him. Before this, she’d always maintained a certain physical distance between them, but that didn’t seem important to her anymore.

      “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken her, but I don’t know what Jerry would have done if I hadn’t. If she needs veterinary care, he wouldn’t have been able to afford that, either. I’m so glad you’re here, Drake.”

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